


motel beds and broken heads

by JumpToConclusions



Series: destiel rights [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel True Forms (Supernatural), Case Fic, Crying, Fluff and Angst, Grace - Freeform, How Do I Tag, I don't know what else to tag just read it, Kinda, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not season 14 compliant, micheal is a problem, open ended i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 22:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JumpToConclusions/pseuds/JumpToConclusions
Summary: Dean is sitting awake at the end of his shitty motel bed, like, in The ‘Top Ten Worst Motel Beds Dean Winchester Has Ever Slept In’ bad.And that’s a fucking achievement.So, he’s sitting awake; head in his hands, brain pounding, Michael screaming, stupid bed with stupid broken springs and stiff pillows and a smellyhorribleterriblefuckingdreadful comferter. And now he wants a distraction, but Sam’s asleep and he feels bad for waking him up last night.So he grabs his phone and walks out of the motel room.It’s freezing, frigid, and the cold feels good against his skin. Dean’s clutching his phone as he goes back into the room to get his coat-The door’s locked.“Fuck me,” He groans, smacking his head against the door. He pats his pockets-He has no pockets -oh my fucking god.orDean's head hurts and he finally talks to Cas about it





	motel beds and broken heads

Dean is sitting awake at the end of his shitty motel bed, like, in The ‘Top Ten Worst Motel Beds Dean Winchester Has Ever Slept In’ bad.   
And that’s a fucking achievement.

So, he’s sitting awake; head in his hands, brain pounding, Michael screaming, stupid bed with stupid broken springs and stiff pillows and a smellyhorribleterriblefuckingdreadful comferter. And now he wants a distraction, but Sam’s asleep and he feels bad for waking him up last night.   
So he grabs his phone and walks out of the motel room. 

It’s freezing, frigid, and the cold feels good against his skin. Dean’s clutching his phone as he goes back into the room to get his coat-  
The door’s locked. 

“Fuck me,” He groans, smacking his head against the door. He pats his pockets-   
He has no pockets -oh my fucking god.

And he doesn’t want to call Sam, because he feels like an idiot. A cold, asshole, horrible, idiot brother. 

So he shivers against the door, in his fucking plaid boxers, because of course he’s in plaid boxers. He’s a Winchester-

“Dean?” He turns to the parking lot, Cas’s standing infront of his car (the stupid blue one). “What are you doing out here?”

“I uh, I came out for air.” He shrugs, arms wrapped around himself, “forgot the card; got locked out.”

“Ah.” Cas says, walking towards him. “I was going to get a room. Do you have a phone? Would you like me to call Sam?”

“I-I don’t wanna wake him up.” Dean shrugs, waving his phone. He then retucks his arms and leans against the door.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Cas smiles tight lipped, shrugging off his coat.

“You don’t have to-”

“You’re freezing.” Cas observes, throwing his coat around Dean’s shoulders. Dean catches the lapels and holds it around himself.

“Thanks.” Dean shrugs. Cas looks naked without the layer. 

“Do you want a bed in my room?”

“You don’t have to- I mean- Yeah.” Dean sighs, rubbing his bare foot against his calf. (He didn’t even put fucking shoes on? Whatthefuck.)

“I will. Just give me a moment.” Cas smiles, rubbing Dean’s shoulder in a half-clap before walking along the sidewalk to the main building. 

Dean hugs the coat tighter around his shoulders, before sighing and just slipping his arms into the sleeves.

He drops his hands into the pockets and huffs.

Cas has a book in his pocket, and his car keys. Dean pulls out the book with his free hand (the other holding his phone) and spins it.

The book has a stalk of lavender on the cover, with Wildflowers in swirling cursive underneath. 

Dean raises an eyebrow, opening the book cover- it’s literally just a book about different wildflowers. It makes him grin.  
He stuffs it back into the pocket, deciding to be a bad friend and rifle some more- 

The pocket on the right side has a small rectangle, he pulls it out. “Dean s Top 13 Zepp Traxx” is written in his own handwriting across the top.

“How?” He runs his fingers over the edges. 

He hears footsteps from across the way, he glances over. Cas is walking towards him, Dean shoves the tape back into his (Cas’s) pocket.

“I got you a bed.” Cas smiles softly.

“Where’s Jack?”

“With your mother.” He hums, guiding Dean by his elbow to a few rooms down. Putting the key in the door and pushing it open. 

“Oh, good.” Dean nods, walking through the door when Cas pushed it open. Dean shrugs off Cas’s coat, draping it over a chair and falling onto the bed. “This motel sucks.” He mumbles into the mattress; pillowing his arms under his head and groaning. 

“Why is that?”

“This mattress sucks ass.”

Cas snorts.

“Do you have to sleep?”

“I never sleep.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean mumbles, huffing as he flips over onto his back. Pushing down the stiff bed covers and shoving his legs under. “You ok?”

“I’ll be fine.” Cas says, his lips pressed together. 

“You sure?” Dean asks, Michael pounds on the door again. He tries not to flinch. 

“Dean?” Cas seems to ask, his head tilted.

“What?” Dean blinks, his head hurts, he drops it into his hands.

“Is it him?” Cas says softly, sitting on the side of the bed closest to Dean. “Is there something I can do?”

Dean huffs out a laugh, crossing his legs like a toddler and dropping his head to his thighs. 

“Is that why you where outside?”

“It’s why I forgot my card, and my shoes, and my coat, and my fucking pants.” Dean whines into the mildew. “My head, Cas. He’s just pounding on my head.”

“Oh, Dean.” Cas murmurs, shrugging off his jacket. Dean hears his shoes thump on the thin stained carpet. 

“I just want him to shut up.” He groans, lifting his head, “I just want him to go away.” 

Cas says nothing.

“I can’t talk about it, Cas. Sam freaks out and starts promising stuff he shouldn’t promise. Mom just gets that- that kicked look. And- and I’ve been keepin’ it all-” he taps his chest, his eyes are welling up; he holds his chin high. “I’ve been keeping it all in.”

“Talk to me.” Cas whispers, less of a whisper, more of a soft spoken word; like a poem or a prayer.

“I don’t wanna talk.” Dean shakes his head. “I don’t wanna do anything. I just want him to fucking-”

“Dean.” Cas says, a hand raising slowly, cupping Dean’s jaw and rubbing something under his eye. Something wet.

Dean Winchester is fucking crying.  
In an awful motel bed.   
With an angel in his head and an angel holding his face.

So, naturally, Dean laughs.

Fucking borderline psychopathic, leans is entire face into Cas’s hand until it’s covering his mouth- until he can feel his own tears on his lips. He presses all his weight into Cas and leans forward, Cas’s hand traveling behind his head to support his neck as Dean slowly presses him backward. His knee is slotted between Cas’s, his body smothering the angel who doesn’t give a shit because he doesn’t need to breathe.

He lays on Cas instead of the mattress. Crying into his stupid shirt, his stupid tie, feeling his stupid chest (why can’t he be softer?) underneath his own jaw. Dean presses his forehead into Cas’s collarbone and noses the hollow of his throat, wet with his own tears.  
Cas says nothing, just lightly scratches Dean’s scalp in a slow, hardly there press.

Dean finds it too light, so he presses his hand into Cas’s side and pulls down harder, Cas seems to get the message and does the same with Dean’s hair. 

“You don’t have to talk to gain support.” Cas says into the top of his head. And Dean pulls on his tie until it comes undone, dropping it on the floor.   
He tucks his nose into the unbuttoned space, feeling like a child. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He hates how weak his voice sounds.

“Don’t be. You have no reason to.” Cas says back, another prayer, another hymn. And Dean almost believes it.

-

He wakes up without as much pounding as normal. On a scale of ‘New neighbor - Pissed landlady’ it’s a solid ‘Girl scout and her yoga mom’.   
Cas is drawing shapes on his back, half of Dean’s body is on the bed, the top half using Cas as a pillow. They’re the wrong way around on the mattress.  
His neck hurts like hell, his spine feels like someone used it too whip cattle and shoved it back in, and his legs are cold. 

“Sam called. I thought it wise not to wake you, though.” Cas says, Dean almost groans.

“I didn’t wake up?”

“I made sure you didn’t, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No. ‘s long as you don’t mind me using you as a pillow.” Dean mumbles, lifting himself slowly and rubbing his face. It’s tacky- the kinda tacky after you cry yourself to sleep. Dry and just… unpleasant. 

“I told him you came to my room this morning to help me with my case.”

“What case?”

“The one I made up.” Cas says, lifting himself. “I assumed the… Michael stuff would be something you’d want not to talk about.”

“You know me too well,” Dean mumbles, cracking his neck, “It’s freaky.”

“I did rebuild you.” Cas glares. 

“That’s a technicality.” 

“Is it?” His head tilts, “when I was putting your decomposing, blended guts back together it didn’t feel like a technicality.”

Dean snorts. “Did Sam clear out yet?”

“He said he went for breakfast. He also said he was taking the car.”

“Bitch.” 

“Didn’t seem like you were using it, Dean.” Cas deadpans. “He left your room unlocked, per ‘your’ request.”

“Thanks. What time is it?”

“Seven.”

“What time did he call?”

“Six thirty.” Cas replies, securing his tie around his neck and slipping on his shoes, like Dean using him as a tissue-pillow-hybrid is normal and something that doesn’t need to be addressed anymore.

“Sorry that I crashed your room.”

“Don’t worry, Dean.”

“Still.”

“You have no reason to be sorry.” Cas says, turning back to Dean. “If you need someone to talk or not talk to I will be here; just come… talk or not talk to me.”

Dean smiles, half grimacing. “Can I borrow your coat? Not really feeling the walk of shame to my room.”

Cas shakes his head, standing and grabbing the coat from where it’s draped over the lone dining chair. “Of course, I can see how walking in your underwear could be shameful.”

Dean snorts. Pulling the coat over his black t-shirt. “You gonna walk me home?”

“If you’d like.” Cas hums, pulling on his blazer over his rumpled dress shirt. 

They both make their way out, Dean watching the floor for anything he could step on and Cas watching Dean.

The key is under Cas's car when they reach it, so Dean picks it up and unlocks the door before he walks in, leaving the door open expectantly.   
Cas follows, standing in the center of the doorway, shutting it behind him. Dean dives through his bag for clothes and shoots Cas a set of finger guns; dropping the coat on the shit dining table before ducking into the bathroom.

The water feels nice, through his hair and in his eyes, washing the bleary feeling away.  
He lets his head thunk against the shower wall as he takes a hand slathered in shampoo through his hair and tries to regulate his breathing.

-

Dean steps out of the bathroom looking better, his eyes are dark and set further back in his face, and his cheeks have hollowed out recently.  
He’s also lost weight.   
He hates it; hides his lack of appetite behind his layers of clothes.

He now sits beside Cas, who is looking at his phone.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Wanna get something for breakfast? I could eat.”

“I’ll come.” Cas nods, tucking his phone into the right pocket of his trench coat and pushing himself up.

“Wait.” Dean says, grabbing Cas’s wrist. 

Cas sits back down.

“I-I just-“ he blinks, “I don’t know why-“ 

“Dean.”

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I suck. I’m sorry.”

“What are you-“

“I’m sorry I said yes. I’m sorry I put you guys through all of this. I’m sorry I don’t have the balls to throw myself into the ocean.” He’s shaking now.

Cas grips his shoulder. “Dean, dont.”

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry-“

“Shut up, Dean.” Cas shoves Dean’s torso into his, Dean tucks his face into Cas’s neck. “You had to say yes, it’s alright.”

“We could have found another way- I should have listened to you.”

“There was no other way.” Cas whispers. Dean buries a fist in the long strands of hair at the base of his neck.

“Why did he still have my consent?”

“You never truly revoked it.” Cas says, pulling back slightly. “After he left you couldn’t really.”

Dean stares at Cas, presses his lips together and bites his tongue before saying- 

“You have my consent too.”

“Dean-“

“If you have to possess me, to keep me alive- to find my soul or whatever- if you think it’s the best shot to Michael or if you just have too; yes, Cas.” 

“I won’t let him take you again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

-

Sam walks into the motel room, Dean jumps back from Castiel like he’s been poked with a hot iron rod. 

“How was the case research?” Sam asks, deciding to just ignore it. 

“It was nothing.” Dean shrugs, “a hoax.”

“I thought it sounded odd, that’s why I asked Dean for a second opinion.” Cas explains further, leaning back against the wall beside the second bed. Dean ruffles his own hair with a towel that he holds in his hand. 

“Oh, alright.” Sam hums, “you guys gonna get something to eat?”

“We were just going.” Cas says, “that is, if you still want to?”

“Yeah, sure.” Dean nods, he skirts his eyes away from Cas. “Keys?” 

Sam sends him a smile, throwing the keys across the room. Dean catches them against his chest. 

“Thanks.” He half smiles, shoving his boots on. “C’mon, Cas.” Dean grabs his jacket and pulls it on as he walks to the door.

“I’m coming.” He hums, “Goodbye, Sam.”

“See ya’, Cas.” 

-

The dinner Dean pulls up to is pretty decent looking, so he and Cas side out of the car. They walk to the door in silence, the little bell rings when Cas holds it open for him.

They sit in a booth, across from each other, and Cas adjusts his silverware so it lines up with the edge of the table.

Dean tries to talk, but a waitress with a strawberry blonde bob-cut is handing them menus.

“Hello, welcome to Darry’s.” She sighs, tired. “I’m Molly, what can I get you to drink?”

“Water, please.” Cas says, casting the waitress a smile. 

“Coffee, thanks.” Dean throws a very half assed grin her way.

“‘Course. I’ll give you a few to look through the menus.” She turns, the souls of her sneakers snap against the floor.

“You getting anything?”

“I don’t eat.” Cas reminds him, “but you can eat whatever you’d like off my plate if you want me to order something?”

“Nah, that’s fine.” Dean hums, trying to find something that doesn’t sound like… too much. The thought of eating more than toast makes him queasy. 

“How was the hunt?” Cas asks.

“Fine, just a ghoul. How was yours ‘n Jack’s?”

“Simple, salt and burn.” Cas nods. “Jack did fantastic, though.”

“I’m sure he did, kid’s really taken the job.”

“He has the mind of a hunter.” Cas nods again, his hands are folded in front of his face, elbows on the table. 

“Yeah.” Dean nods, “wish he didn’t have to, but he can’t exactly… be a normal kid, not with us as ‘parents’.” He raises one hand in quotes, the other still clutching the two sided laminated paper acting as a menu. 

“We’re doing our best.” Cas nods, leaning his chin against his hands. His gaze is somewhere else.

“Yeah.” Dean turns his attention to the menu.

“You guys good?” Says Molly, who shows up a moment later; seemingly from nowhere.

“Yeah, I’ll get the cheese and ham omelette, white bread.” Dean hums, holding out his and Cas’s menus.

“And you?” She asks, tucking them under her arm and turning to face Cas, he shakes his head.

“I’m good, thank you.”

“If you change your mind let me know.” She smiles tight lipped and rubs at the bags under her eyes as she walks off.

“We’re tipping her well.” Dean huffs. “Looks like she’s slept less this week than me.”

“You do need to sleep more.”

“Yeah, and Michael needs to fuck off.” Dean snorts, pissed the menu’s gone and he has nothing to hide behind.

“You seemed to sleep fine last night.” 

“Yeah, we’ll-“ Dean purses his lips. “I don’t have a comeback, fuck.”

“Sorry, here’s your coffee.” Molly says, again, suddenly like she appeared from the dude in the booth behind them’s ass.

“No problem.” Dean says as she places his and Cas’s drinks in front of them. She’s gone again before he can thank her.

“If it helped you to talk about it, or just to have someone there-“

“It did, but-“ Dean scoffs, “I don’t know, Man. I just kinda cried it out. It’s what humans do.”

“I’m well aware.” Cas nods, “I’m merely saying that I’m here for the ‘crying it out’ if you’d like me to be.”

Dean huffs, dumping a sugar packet in just to have something to do. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course, Dean.”

“So, anything else on you mind?”

“Yes, actually.” Cas hums again, “I spoke to your mother, when I dropped Jack off at Donna’s cabin, she said you were looking for me.”

“Oh.”

“Why didn’t you call?” Cas asks.

“I… I wasn’t lookin’ for you.” He sighs, “mom just knows me too well.”

“Oh?”

“She knew I wasn’t doing good, I talked to her about it.” He shrugs, “she took it upon herself to talk to you.”

“So you don’t need me?”

Dean grunts, “you know the answer to that, Angel.” 

Cas smiles down at his water while Dean blushes down at his coffee. Fucking school girls is what they are.

Dean’s forty, Cas is… fuck.

“Hey, odd question.”

“What is it?” Cas asks, drinking his water. 

“I never asked how old you are?” Dean shrugs, “like, how old are angels?”

“Oh, well, I’m uh- not sure. I was created before the calendar, but… the second day.”

“Second day of what?”

“Everything?” Cas chuckles, “archangels were created on the first day, seraphs the second.” 

“So… you’re… very very old.”

“Extremely.” Cas half smiles, “but my vessel is forty-three, now.” 

“Now?”

“Well I allow it to age,” Cas shrugs, “I don’t want to be… thirty while you all age, that would be odd.”

“You still look-” Dean starts, but coughs and drinks his coffee instead. He places his cup back down in its saucer. 

“Thank you,” Cas huffs. “Any other questions?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean shakes his head, scratching behind his neck. “Uh, you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you… look like?” 

Cas blinks, “I guess I’ve never talked about it, it being me.” He hums, folding his lips together.

“You don’t have to, I just- ya’know, I’m never gonna see you- unless I die, or whatever, so.” He huffs, “I mean, I’ve read about angel true forms, but you never really know until you hear it from the real deal; which you happen to be.”

“We should talk about it somewhere else.” Cas says, “I’d like to be completely honest with you.”

“Yeah, sure, later then.” Dean nods.

“I’m happy to answer any other questions.”

“Ok, hold on. Let me think.”

Cas smiles into his drink.

“Hey! Sorry, kitchen’s having some difficulty.” Molly slides up, dropping Deans omelette in front of him. “You sure you don’t want anything?” She turns to Cas.

“I’m ok, thank you.”

“No problem.” She sighs, sending them a smile before walking away. 

“Ok, I came up with a question.” Dean says, nibbling on the edge of his toast. “Prayer, what’s it feel like, like how do you hear it?”

Cas shakes his head, “It’s like… Like an echo. Like the person is behind your eyes. You can hear them, feel every word, but they aren’t there.”

Dean nods, he didn’t really know what he expected. “What about… wings? Do you like… actually fly?”

Cas blinks a few times, “not- not on this plane. Flying here is more like ‘teleportation’.” He holds quotation marks above his head. “On other planes, yes.”

“Other planes? Like Heaven?”

“Yes. On that plane I have all six of my wings.” Cas hums, like he just added a completely normal part onto this completely normal conversation.

“Six?” Dean drops his toast. “You only have the two, what do you mean six?”

“Well we only use the two for flying, but they’re much stronger when we’re able to use the other four; which cover our eyes and… feet for most.”

“For most?”

“Again, I want to be honest with you,” he glances around the diner, “so not here.”

Dean nods again, picking back up his toast. “I don’t know what else to ask. What would you ask?”

“What would I ask myself?”

“Yeah.” He cuts into his omelette.

“I’d ask…” He presses his lips together. “I’m not sure.” 

“See? It’s hard.” Dean points at him with his fork, slowly cutting another chunk out of his omelette. “Is it weird, watching humans evolve and now… hanging with us?”

Cas nods his head from side to side. “No, no... well-” He sighs, “I’ve watched humans evolve, yes, but now… you aren’t humans, you’re Dean, Sam, Mary, Jack, Bobby…” He shrugs, “you aren’t the human race; you’re human.”

Dean nods.

“What’s it like not believing in angels your entire life and now ‘hanging’ with one?” Cas fires back, he’s smiling, though.

Dean grins, “cool.”

Cas rolls his eyes. Dean stares down at his plate. 

“You’ve hardly eaten.” Cas observes, Dean doesn’t try to lie.

“Not really feeling this.” He shakes his head, getting out his wallet and dropping a fifty on the table. “Wanna clear out?”

“If you do.” Cas looks concerned, but doesn’t say anything to him. Dean stands up when Molly ducks into the kitchen.

They climb in the Impala and Dean starts to drive, not in the direction of the motel, Cas notices but says nothing.

“So, about that true form?” Dean asks, grinning over at him, Cas rolls his eyes.

“Yes, um… It’s… hard to explain. It’s very similar to…” He huffs, “no Earth animal. Ever.”

Dean huffs, “just try.” He pulls into a gas station and turns in the seat to look at Cas. “Come on, there’s gotta be a way to explain.”

Cas’s lips are pressed together, “maybe I can… show you.”

“Won’t that kill me?” Dean’s eyebrows raise, “or like, blind me?”

“No.” Cas shakes his head, “I can try to dull down the… Blinding-ness of it.”

“Try?” He blinks, “alright, whatever, just show me.” He sticks his neck out, Cas huffs and holds out his hand. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Dean snorts again, pressing Cas’s hand to his temple.

It’s… woah. 

Words really can’t describe… that. Huge, grey, six giant wings on a giant form. He has one expressionless head, no mouth, a rounded chunk seemingly broken from concrete with two huge glowing blue eyes. Three other heads accompany that one, a zebra, a lion, and a ram; they all share the large blue eyes, less bright than the center head. A halo circles the three. 

The body is odd, like vertebrae that floats with no cartilage in between, huge grey disks that curve down into a tail and across into huge humerus that extends into a hooked blade. The way it stands is hunched, it’s legs are odd, huge curving fingers and knees that lead into darker grey talons.

When Dean blinks back into real life, into seeing Cas in front of him, he almost gasps. 

Holy shit.

Cas doesn’t say anything, his lips are pressed together, waiting for Dean to show some real reaction.

Even Michael is quiet. 

“Dude-” Dean shakes his head, he isn’t able to shake that image from behind his eyes, “holy shit. You’re awesome.”

Cas’s eyebrows press together. “You’re… serious?”

Dean blinks. “No shit. Cas, woah.”

“I…” He throws his eyes around the cab.

“Did you think I’d- I’d be like, disgusted?”

“Well, it’s not exactly pretty by human standards.” Cas shrugs, rubbing his bicep and shrugging again.

“Cas-” his eyebrows raise when he processes that, “by angel standards?”

“I’m not… bad.”

Dean grins, “damn right you’re not.”

Cas rolls his eyes.

“And by human standards you’re badass. Much better than a lady in a toga.”

Cas’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, “did you think I was a lady in a toga?” 

“I didn’t not think it.” Dean shrugs, “you didn’t give me much to work with. I was just going off of church stuff. They make all of you pretty blonde ladies with harps and fluffy wings.” 

Cas huffs, “my wings are razor sharp to the touch if I will them to be, not fluffy.” 

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” He then closes his eyes and tilts his head, “but they’re… more… silky when I’m unthreatened.” 

Dean breathes in sharp and nods. “Well, whatever, still better.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas smiles, looking down at his lap. He looks almost lighter now, like he was expecting Dean to lean out of the car and throw up. 

“Don’t thank me.” Dean scoffs, “this isn’t something you need to thank me about.” Cas drops his hands into his lap. 

Cas just smiles. 

-

They’re back at the motel, with Dean humming something that’s obviously supposed to be a rock song. Sam’s sitting at a little round table typing on his laptop.

“We heading out tonight? There’s been no follow up activity.” Sam says, not taking his eyes off of the screen.

“Yeah, guess so.” Dean nods, “no reason to stick around. You comin’, Cas?”

“Yes.” Cas answers from where he leans against the wall across from the beds. “Jack is at your mother's, by the way, Sam.”

“Ok.” Sam nods, he shuts his laptop. 

Dean is staring at the space between the beds, his humming has cut off abruptly and his body is tense.

“Dean?” Cas says carefully, stepping forward. “Dean.”

He says nothing. 

“Dean?” Cas places a hand on his shoulder, “can you hear me?” Sam has an angel blade in his hand. 

“Cas?” Dean says slowly, his body doesn’t move, his eyes don’t waver. 

“Are you alright?” Cas says softly, Dean nods slowly. 

“Just- just a minute. I’m ok.” Dean says, slowly raising his hand to cover Cas’s. “I’m ok.” He says again carefully.

Sam slowly puts his blade back in the duffel bag underneath the table. 

“Are you sure?”

“Can you just…?”

“Of course.” Cas says. Dean slowly turns around, he doesn’t meet Cas’s eyes. 

“He’s so loud-”

“I know, it’s alright.” Cas hums, Dean is shaking a bit. His eyes are glassy. “Dean, you’re ok. Why don’t we sit down?”

Dean nods after a moment, letting Cas move him over so his shins hit the bed. 

They sit next to each other, Dean’s head in his hands. 

“He’s so loud.”

“I know, I’m here.” Cas whispers.

Sam looks on at them.

-

They get back to the bunker late, Dean heads straight for his room to drop his bags. Sam sends Cas a nod in Deans direction, and Cas smiles at him, taking the hint and following after Dean.

Dean is sitting on his bed when Cas walks in, head in his hands. Cas sighs, shutting the door behind him and standing just after the threshold. 

Dean pats the spot beside him, face still obscured by one of his palms.

Cas sits, torso facing Dean. “Do you want to talk?” 

Dean shakes his head, letting out an equally shaky breath. Cas reaches across to place a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean brings his free hand to it. 

His hand is a little wet, and Cas can see his tear coated eyelashes between his fingers. Cas brings one of his hands to Dean’s chin after a while of just sitting, and slowly guides Dean’s head to face him.

Dean just let's him. 

Cas slowly lowers Dean’s hand. “I’m sorry he’s this awful, Dean.” He holds both of Dean’s hands, and suddenly Dean’s had enough.

He stands up, ripping his hands out of Cas’s fists. “You don’t get to be sorry.” He says loudly, “because one, not your fault; mine. And two, no. Just no. I don’t need you feelin’ sorry for me.”

Cas says nothing.

“You can’t save me this time, Cas. You should just let me fucking throw myself into the ocean. I’m not strong enough to do this.”

Cas stands slowly, stepping towards Dean. Dean steps back until he hits the wall opposite of his bed, Cas doesn’t break eye contact as he presses two fingers to Dean’s lips.

“No.” He says, softly. Then removes his hand and wraps Dean in his arms.

Dean feels himself being pulled from the wall and wrapped in Cas, and he just breathes shakily into Cas’s collar. 

“I will never, ever, not save you.” He breathes into Dean’s ear. And Dean doesn’t scold him on making a promise he can’t keep; he just sighs into Cas’s neck.

“Stay.” He whispers, hardly even realizing he’s said it. Acting on autopilot as he did last night, reaching up between them and tugging off Cas’s tie, pushing his coats off, running a hand through that messy, dark hair. Cas just lets him undress and hold him, until Dean’s hands shake.

He resumes, slowly toeing off his shoes, slowly pushing Dean’s flannel off.

Dean has his eyes closed.

Cas slowly brings them towards Dean’s bed, and they lay beside each other.

-

It takes hours for Dean to fall asleep. Cas talks and talks for those hours, about wars, about heaven, about Saturn. Anything and everything to keep Dean’s mind some place else. 

Cas doesn’t mind, taking prompts Dean puts out to heart and speaking about whatever Dean asks for until the human’s breathing evens and his body falls heavy on Cas’s.

He doesn’t move, stares at the ceiling and carefully, softly rakes his fingers through Dean’s hair and down his shoulders.

-

Dean wakes up slowly, and Cas can feel his heart rate rise.

“I’ve got dejavu.” He grumbles into Cas’s chest. 

Cas smiles softly. Dean nussles his face into Cas’s neck, Cas draws patterns on his back.

Shit.

“I have to get up, I’m sorry.” Cas says quickly, tearing himself out of Dean’s bed. 

“Uh- you alright?” Deans asks, “...sorry I used you as a pillow, Man. I won’t do it again if it makes you that-“

“No, Dean, no- not you. I’m just- I’m just happy.”

“Happy?”

“Happy.”

“Happy?” Dean repeats again, and Cas can’t see him but he can tell Dean’s facial expression from his voice. 

“I can’t be- Dean I can’t be happy.”

“Wha?” 

Cas looks over his shoulder. “I made a deal, with the Empty.”

“What.” 

“I had to to save Jack. If I’m truly happy she’ll come for me-“

“Cas I swear to god if you’re kidding-“

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. Fuck, Man.” Dean groans, “we have enough- you can’t be happy?”

Cas shakes his head. 

“And you’re worried just innocently laying down with me after I cried myself to sleep like a fucking baby will warrant you enough happiness that you’ll die?”

A moment of silence passes.

“Not the crying part.” Cas says softly. Dean nods.

“Ok- alright-” He rakes his hands down his face. “Jesus, Cas. Alright. We’ll figure this out. She’s not taking you.” Dean sighs, “will she take Michael instead? That’d be convenient.”

“It would.” Cas says softly, but shakes his head. 

“So… fuck. Who knows about this? Am I the only-” 

“Just Jack.” Cas reassures, not moving from his place standing beside Dean’s dresser. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner, Man?” Dean asks, he runs a hand through his hair, not meeting Cas’s eyes for a few seconds; until he does, and it’s awful. They’re red rimmed from crying, and Cas feels horrible, but says nothing.

Dean looks up at him from his bed, after finally, blessedly, opening up to Cas for the first time in forever, and Cas feels horrible. He’s a burden, again. God- Micheal was right.

“We’ll fix this, Bud.” Dean says, a new level of absurdness in his aura, glowing like a low hanging halo. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Cas repeats, trying to school his expression stoic. 

Dean stands up- he’s still wearing his jeans, which looks uncomfortable -and shakes his head. “I’m keeping this one.”

Cas let's that break him, his head falling to the side and lips forming a sad smile.

“I’m keepin’ this one, Cas, because we can’t- I won’t- we’re not losing you again.” He shakes his head again, “fuck- I’m not losing you again, ok? I don’t think I could…” Dean licks his lip into his mouth and looks away from Cas; brows angry, despite his tone.

“Ok.” Cas says, knowing it makes Dean feel better to have the allusion of control, the lie that is his duty to his family. “I belive you.” He says, despite the disbelief littering his tone. 

-

Sam and Dean jump into research mode, Sam looks relieved to have something to work on that isn’t Micheal, despite the fact that Cas’s life is on the line (he tries not to look too offended at that, because he understands the feeling), and Dean keeps biting his lips.

Cas tries to tell them that this effort? It’s not worth it; it wont do anything, in the long run, to research a being that has never been written about, that existed before God-  
“Got something!” Sam says. When will Cas learn: never underestimate Sam Winchester’s research. 

Dean halts his pacing, setting down his book and leaning over his brothers shoulder. “What language is that in, Man?”

“Enochian.” Sam hums, looking over at Cas, who’s sending him a raised brow. “I uh… picked it up, some of it… I’m not great.” 

“What do you think it says?” Cas asks, leaning over in his chair to look at the book Sam has perched on the table.

“It uh- I think it says, ‘the… something.... shadow craves it’s desire’... which is… not useful, because duh-” he runs his finger under the words, right to left.

“It says, ‘the celestial being ‘The Shadow’ craves that to which it has expressed desire’, loosely translated.” Cas corrects, “but very close, Sam. I hadn't noticed you were learning.” 

“Just… decided to give it a go.” Sam shrugs. Dean hits his shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Relevance, Guys? Come on, Cas, what’s the rest say?”

Cas takes the book from Sam’s hands, allowing his eyes to scan the page for a moment. “It’s just speculation really, this was written by- most likely -someone who had contact with Metatron, who in turn had contact with God, so it’s most certainly accurate speculation.” He starts, “it basically says… bait the shadow, offer what they want, and maybe you can catch them in holy fire to strike a new deal.”

“Thats it?” Dean looks deflated, apples of his cheeks pressed int the bottom of his eyes as he squints at the page, “Man, I thought we had somethin’.”

Sam blinks, mouth quirking down and head rocking back, “we do.”

“We’re not… we’re not using Cas as bait, Sammy.”

“Sounds like the only option, Dean; right, Cas-”

“Don’t answer that.” Dean points at Cas, cutting Sam off. Cas raises his hands halfway in mock surrender.

“Can you come up with anything else, Dean?” Sam asks after a moment.

Dean rubs a hand down his stubble and throws his gaze around the room, pushing off the chair he leans against. “No.”

“Then this is our only plan.” Sam sighs, “I’ll call Mom, we might need Jack for further convincing.” Sam stands from his chair, grabbing his phone off the table as he goes. 

Dean and Cas sit in silence for a moment. 

“I don’t like this plan.” Dean mumbles.

“I feel dejavu.” Cas raises an eyebrow, thinking back to the hospital. 

“Roll reversal, Bud.” Dean sighs. “Universe seems to love that.” Cas hums at that, standing from his chair and leaning against the library table. 

“This is probably the only option.”

“It’s just… bargaining, Man… and that thing is control the entire time. It has you, you’re the thing we’re bargaining for. She could just decide to spontaneously give you a happy and whisk you off to The Empty.”

“We don’t have to do this.” Cas says, “I’ll die, yes, but not for a while.”

Dean shakes his head, “I don’t want that either- fuck.”

“It’s difficult.” Cas nods in agreement. “But what if, in exchange for my life, we give them Micheal.”

Dean looks up a spot on the floor, “what?”

“I’m not half as strong as him, and the Empty must crave strength above all else, by giving them Micheal we would kill two birds with one stone… and if they’re still unsatisfied… I’m willing to give my grace.”

Dean blinks at him, “I- But what if she just wants you?” His voice isn’t as strong as he’d like it to be. 

Cas smiles, sad, “then there’s nothing we can do, Dean.”

-

Sam thinks it’s a good plan.   
Then again Sam thinks most plans that aren’t him loosing his best friend and his brother to two awful celestial beings one after the other (Cas would have to be first, no happy without Dean) (and Dean next, unable to hold onto Micheal in his grief) are good plans.

Cas sits beside him again, this time in Dean’s ‘Dean Cave’, with Jack at his feet, watching a Scooby Doo episode Sam hasn’t been paying attention to.

Dean is pacing, probably because 1. His lack of place to sit, and 2. His over whelming worry about his best friend’s well being, or the hidden third option, 3. Micheal is knock knock knocking on Dean’s door.

Sam is half convinced he should stand up and excuse himself to bed, only to research for a few hours, but really wants to spend time near Cas… he’s his best friend too, ok? He was just told his best friend is going to die and that’s… That’s not something he wants to face by staring at the ceiling of his bedroom or a book he struggles to read for hours. 

Mom comes in the room, perching on Sam’s armrest, tucking her feet under his thigh and being a blessing, just in general, calming him with her presence in a way he can only associate with Dean staying awake with him after the nightmares he had in eighth grade. 

Jack giggles at something on screen, knocking Cas’s leg with his shoulder. 

Sam smiles at him, feeling an overwhelming love around the room that pools in the center of his chest, under his sternum, and pushes his worries of tomorrow into the trash by the liquor cabinet. 

He loves his family. Stitched together with string made from flesh, blood, and bone, tears and grace, that burns where it pokes through the fabric of the universe; numbing the effects of their love and amplifying the consequences of their actions.

He feels where the string attaches him to his mother, to his brother, and to his son. And doesn’t even have to look at Dean and Cas to know their string is tighter, more closely woven, with Jack just underneath them. 

He hopes the kid doesn’t lose his two of his parents, one after another.

He hopes it doesn’t come to that as he gets up, sacrificing his time with his family so his brother can calm himself down. 

“I’m headed to bed.” He hums, picking up his empty bear bottle and grabbing the one Cas passes him. “Cas needs another, Dean.” He says, playing wingman. 

Someone has to.

**Author's Note:**

> I have like seven more oneshots with Dean crying. I'm a bad person.


End file.
